


Let's Try

by LostFairyMantic



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternatively titled: Hank and his twinks, Blowjobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pacifist Ending, RK900 adjusts his cuffs like Connor adjusts his tie, RK900 still fucks because Connor is adorable, Self-cest, The three act structure: try to fuck fuck and get fucked, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostFairyMantic/pseuds/LostFairyMantic
Summary: RK900 wakes up in the middle of the night to some strange noises. Connor isn't in the charging port next to him and Lieutenant Anderson is awake.In which RK900 finds out what Connor and Hank does in their free time and gets curious.





	Let's Try

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't know what I want to call RK900 so for now, he will be named as he is. If you guys have any suggestions fire away and I'll change his name as so! :)
> 
> Im considering calling him Nines as a homage to the amazing TeminallyDepraved or calling him the usual Conrad affiliation people typically go with. 
> 
> This is my first fic in a while so I hope you enjoy! Please tell me if any of the characters are bit wacky or strange and Ill do my best to fix it. My twitter is @LFMantic <3

“It feels good Lieutenant.” 

“Fuck, how many times do I have to tell you call me Hank”

RK900 awoke, blinking rapidly to clear away the red spots dotting his vision as the dizziness of his stasis swept away, replaced by clarity that immediately had him alert. A quick check of his own components revealed the time , 3 AM on a Friday night. He paused, frowning as he perused his rewinded memories, instantly identifying the two voices as his predecessor Connor and Lieutenant Anderson respectively. Winded, out of breath. An intruder?

He peered to his left, eyes narrowing at the empty charging port next to him. A quick scan told him Connor had been removed from his port approximately 46 minutes and 5 seconds ago. By force or by voluntary means he could not determine. 

With that, RK900 stepped out from his own charging port, adjusting the cuffs on his uniform. They clinked together, a pair of husky cufflinks his predecessor had gotten him on their last shopping trip. RK900 thought they looked tacky, but felt it rude to reject Connor after he’d done so much for him and so he’d replaced his former Cyberlife links. They were starting to grow on him despite its cheap, childish quality. 

RK900 quickly stalked his way to Hank’s cabinet, stepping over Sumo’s slumbering form to slide open the drawer for the gun he knew Hank kept hidden for Connor’s sake. He flipped the safety off and slid into the shadows, keeping his gun trained at his side. He crept closer to Hank’s bedroom. The voices escalated, creeping higher in pitch and intensity. 

A sob. A muffled gasp.

“Lieutenant Hank!”

A breathy chuckle.

“Getting warmer Connor”.

“My internal temperatures are. “ A low moan. “Indeed heating up to 98 Degrees. Do you need me to activate my cooling fans?” 

“That’s not what I-no just enjoy yourself Connor. ”

A series of slick noises, sloppy and lewd. Obscene.

RK900 kept his back to the wall when he reached Hank’s room. Pursing his lips, he peeked into sliver of light streaking from the open door.

His eyes fell on the discarded shirts, ties, bottles of lubricant _stimulation reconstructed: RK800 model and Lieutenant Anderson stripped and knocked the bottles to the floor_ before finally landing on the creaking bed in the middle of the room.

RK900 stilled, LED suddenly a bright red that shocked him into action. He jerked back, moving away from the door, mind helpfully pulling up thousands of websites, tabs, and social media forums that exactly matched the scenario replaying itself in his mind. 

Shaking his head clear of the tabs, RK900 creeped toward the door again, lowering the gun. 

The two were...fornicating with each other. 

Conor was bouncing atop the Lieutenant with wild abandon. Every time the Lieutenant pulled out, Connor’s synthetic muscles squeezed, a little bit of his thirum lubricate leaking out from his anal cavity. Even at the unusual sight, RK900 couldn't help but muse over Cyber Life's advanced company. Connor truly looked like a human, with the way his muscles contracted and wrung, bottom rippling with synthetic fat. 

RK900 zoomed in even more, curious. 

Hank cursed as his erection slipped out. He jostled Connor, pushing him into his chest as he grabbed his erection, lined it up with Connor’s thirum coated anus lubricating material with a viscosity index of 40 and rammed in, sending Conor into a spasm that shook his entire body. 

His LED flashed an alarming red. Connor was in danger of shutting down due to software instability and overheating. Instead of stopping though, Connor only accelerated his actions, chasing his own pleasure. Pleasure? Could androids feel pleasure? He was slamming down so hard on the lieutenant's lap that RK900 was concerned about the bed’s condition. If it broke, there was a 34% chance one of them would get impaled by a piece of wood. Upon his scan, he found that the bed only had a 13% chance of breaking. Made from mahogany wood and sturdy above all else. 

“God, you’re so wet.” Hank jerked his hip up, lifting Connor off the bed sheets and into the air, hand roughly fisting Connor’s penis in pace with his thrusts. Connor sobbed loud enough that RK900 felt it echo in his audio receptors. Hank cursed, smacking his hand across Connor’s mouth so that all that came out was distorted rambling. He leaned in to kiss Connor’s face, dirty with synthetic tears and saliva, look tender and loving. 

“If only your twin could see you now, desperate and wanton like a whore.”

RK900 felt, not saw Connor’s arousal increase in the form of added heat and perspiration. “Whore” was a derogatory term, something used to debase and humiliate women. It aroused Connor. Confused, he logged the memory in the back of his mind and watched the action unfold. At this point, Connor was a puddle in the lieutenant's arms, barely holding on as Hank pounded him into a blubbering mess. A sharp staccato of pants and moans assaulted his ears. When the two showed no signs of stopping, RK900 stepped back and returned to the living room.

Sumo lifted its heavy head and ‘boofed. Carefully, RK900 reloaded the gun and placed it back in Hank’s drawer. He ruffled the canine’s ears, stepped over his sleeping body and returned to stasis at his port. Sumo’s tail eventually stopped thumping and he returned to dream land. 

An hour later, Connor staggered into the living room, out of breath, winded, flushed. He barely glanced at RK900 as he stepped back into his port. He didn’t realize that RK900 had woken up the instant he stepped into the room. Didn't realize that RK900 had spent the rest of the night staring at him. Didn't realize that he’d failed to clean up properly and a smidge of semen was on the corner of his mouth, dirty, white and tantalizing.  
__

“I saw you fornicating with Lieutenant Anderson yesterday” RK900 stated matter of fact, washing the dishes at the kitchen sink with smooth even strokes, scrubbing off the remnants of egg whites he’d used to prepare Hank’s breakfast. 

Next to him, Connor froze in the process of wiping down the countertop. Hank was still passed out cold from last night’s activities, RK900 was sure of that. When he went in this morning to change the sheets, he was snoring face down amidst the wrinkled sheets and futons of the bed. RK900 had left him to his privacy and had waited out Connor’s awakening by continuously repeating said fornication in his headspace. 

When Connor didn’t respond, RK900 tilted his head and made another inquiry, “Did he force you into it?”

Connor tensed, a narrowing of his eyes that suggested irritation, embarrassment. Just as RK900 was about to apologize for his brashness, the other sighed and all the tension flowed from his shoulders. 

“No, I was the one who asked for Lieutenant's help. There was no coercion or force involved.”

RK900’s LED flashed, brow wrinkling as he processed Connor’s answer.

“We are equipped with functional genitalia” Connor quipped, trying to be helpful. 

“We do not feel pleasure nor do we require sexual release” RK900 countered.

“Are you lovers?” RK900 asked. His diagnostic revealed that human lovers commonly participated in such acts of intimacy. There were no shortage of videos online that depicted androids and humans fornicating in the sheets. Tags like amateur and homemade were very popular within the android loving community. 

“In a way we are,” Connor answered. Vague, almost unsure. RK900 filed that to the back of his mind and pressed on to more concerning issues.

“Why did you engage in intercourse with the Lieutenant?” he asked again.

RK900 watched Connor sigh, hand raising to scratch the back of his head in a frustrated human gesture. Designed to perfectly mimic human mannerisms and behavior. Or maybe that was entirely Connor himself. 

RK900 was not programmed act that way. Even deviant he stood perfectly still and waited for Connor’s response, recording the instant his predecessor's finger rose to probe at his own lips, shifting his weight from one leg to another. 

RK900 remembered the same lithe legs wrapped around Hank’s waist, toes curling like he was trying to melt into Hank and live connected forever.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever masturbated?” Connor finally decided on an answer.

“No, I never encountered any need or opportunity that required me to utilize that function,” RK900 answered. He paused a bit, taking in his counterpart’s face. His screen materialized with pictures he saved from the night before. Connor, red faced, eyes wet and leaking, sobbing as he was brought to another orgasm that left him writhing like an animal. The pictures overlayed with the real Connor studying him and a surge of heat sparked within him, pooling in his stomach as he snatched the other’s wrist.

Connor jolted, surprised. He gave RK900 a one over, LED flashing a brief yellow glow.

“Your temperature raised by 1.2 degrees,” he finally noted. 

“Teach me,” RK900 ordered. Something fluttered in his stomach amidst the velvety heat. Nervousness. An emotion he’d never felt before. An emotion. 

Connor stiffened. His tongue swiped over his lips, wetting them in a faint blue shade. RK900 followed the muscled tongue, so alike to his own, with his eyes. 

“You’re your own person,” he tried, voice scratchy,” you’re young and you should explore the world to see what it has to offer you.”

RK900 watched his LED whirl, swirling, swirling, never reaching red but never settling into blue either. 

“When Lieutenant Anderson said that to you, you ignored it. You’re being a hypocrite by saying the same to me. I know what I want, Connor,” RK900 made his voice harsh. That was the only way to get Connor to listen to him. “I would understand if you yourself did not want to engage in sexual activities with me but your parameters tell me the opposite.” 

The LED whirled again, blue yellow, blue , yellow. RK900 took his time, analyzing the wrist in his hand. Slender, smooth, slightly bruised where Hank had held him up the wall in the previous night. 

“Alright,” Connor finally said, looking up at him.” You go lie down on the coach. I’ll go lock Sumo in Hank’s room so he doesn’t interrupt us and cover us in slobber.”

He laughed, soft and warm like he was remembering a particularly amusing memory and moved away from RK900. 

“C’mon Sumo, I have some treats for you”

RK900 watched Connor pad away with Sumo fast at his heels, tail a brown and white blur. Followed Connor’s backside as he dissapeared down the hall. 

He looked away, analyzed the house. The temperature was 78 degrees. It was Saturday. It was currently 9:16 AM. Hank would be waking up in 43 minutes and 57 seconds. 

Without a second’s thought he briskly walked to the coach, tugging off the blankets and pillows and placing them neatly on the coffee table, doing his best to avoid the beer stains splattered among its surface.

RK900 quickly laid back on the coach, hands plasted to his sides and legs clamped together. It was uncomfortable looking and stiff, he often heard Hank comment over the neck of a whiskey bottle, but he didn't feel any pain from his position and it minimized space so he always laid this way. He adjusted his cuffs, feeling the plastic clink beneath his nails. 

In a few seconds, Connor returned with a bag of Sumo’s favorite dog treats in his hand. Connor took one look at him splayed on the coach and burst out laughing, crows’ nests crickling the edges of his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” RK900 asked, thirum pumping, defensive. “I have lied down like you asked. Do not disappoint me by telling me you regret your decision.”

Connor laughed again, shaking his head, “Sorry, sorry, you just reminded me of my first day at the police department.” That warm twinkle returned to his eyes and RK900 felt something unpleasant stirr in his abdomen. “Just spread your legs so I can sit down without falling off.”

RK900 nodded, shifting up and opening his legs. Connor quickly settled between them, patting his thighs and smoothing the wrinkles of his slacks. He stopped, LED flashing and tried to wrap his hand around around RK900’s thighs. Long as his fingers were, they couldn't reach around the entirety of his thighs. The perfect male figure. The god of desire, Adonis. 

“You’re very muscular,” Connor said, gaze admiring. His fingers danced down to RK900’s calves, rubbing the dips and curves of his skin. Unlike Connor, RK900 was not made to integrate with humans. His skin was perfectly clear with no imperfections to yield. No moles, freckles, discolored spots, characteristics common on Connor’s body. 

“That is the fifth time you have repeated that quote. My answer remains the same: I was built to be a soldier and a soldier’s body I was given.” RK900 repeated himself, stimulated breathing quickening when Connor reached for his belt. 

“Well, let’s see what we’re working with.” 

With deft hands, Connor undid RK900’s belt, pulling down his pants to reach for the phallus tucked within every android’s standard Cyberlife briefs. RK900 murmured, eyes following Connor’s slender hands. 

Connor pulled out his flaccid cock. RK900 twitched, transfixed as he watched Connor marvel at his member, turning it this and that. There was a weird pressure, a sort of whirring as the thirium in his storage system relocated to his penis. It erected, engorged and firm under Connor’s slender fingers, who had to spread them to cover the whole circumference.

“You’re programmed bigger here too,” Connor said, teasing smile on his lips. The heat in RK900’s stomach stirred, warm and smolten. Fascinated, he examined his phallus. _RK900 Phallus model: 6.5 inches. Uncircumsized._

Connor traced his finger down a vein, cupped his testes with his other hand. 

It didn't feel pleasant, nor did it feel unpleasant. Almost like someone was grabbing his arm or his neck or his leg. The sensations he felt were all the same and RK900 swallowed back his disappointment as he shifted to move Connor back, disheartened with the lackluster results.

Connor held up his hand, warm doe eyes twinkling in mischief before the left closed in what RK900 deduced was supposed to be a seductive wink. He automatically tried to mimic the movement, entire side of his face flinching as he blinked at the man before him. Trying to fit in. The reason he moved in here in the first place, to learn and grow with his predecessor. 

“Okay, I’m going to turn on your sensors now alright? Relax...Take a deep breath”

Connor sat up, spreading his palms on RK900’s thighs. He was gripping hard, RK900 could tell. His fingernails were leaving perfect crescents into his skin. Connor was fascinated with his form. RK900 couldn't fathom why. 

Slowly, Connor arched his back, lower and lower until his his lips were an inch away from RK900’s member, artificial breath tickling the skin, cool where where his thirum lubricant leaked leaving trails of wetness that dripped down his buttocks.

Connor grinned, head titling. Then he leaned then, brushed aside some stray hair that had fallen out of his perfect hair, and curled his tongue around the glans of his head. 

A jolt of electricity sent RK900 into a spasm. It shot from his penis, crackling up his spine and ruined his head in a frenzy of sparks and noise. 

His vision overclouded with red, blaring alarms, danger danger, software instabilities. A series of websites popped up, all downloading at the same time, processing, turning, simulations running wild.

__****

_Pleasure protocol initiated. Downloading._  
Sensors on Maximum Setting  
Overriding Protocols

_VIrus Corruption// unknown influence  
ERROR ERROR_

****

**_Diagnostic running_  
** 20%....45%....90%...  
All systems clear.  
Rebooting in 3...2...

 

When he came to, Connor was kissing him, gently peppering his face with kisses as he smoothed over RK900’s cheeks in soft comforting motions. RK900 leaned into the touch, disorientated. His head throbbed with something he recognized as discomfort. 

“Not so bad right?” Connor whispered.

“Our line was not developed with sensory interactions as our primary function. We can perform intercourse but without pleasure. Markus was the one who helped activate my own sensors under Simon’s watchful eyes. The two are romantically involved. I am very grateful to the both of them for helping me despite that. I know it must feel very uncomfortable, as I have also undergone the same sensations. Are you feeling alright, RK900? “ 

RK900 moved to say something. All that came out was static. He pursed his lips and finally nodded.

Connor beamed, thumbs rubbing away the last of RK900’s simulated sweat, cooling system finally dying down as his body returned to normal. 

Then he felt it. 

He had not felt anything like it before.

Nothing like this.

He was _throbbing_.

Almost like he could read RK900’s mind, and maybe he was, Connor wrapped his hands around his cock and pumped. 

And with that, the heat in his stomach burst into a thousand streams.

RK900’s hips jerked off the couch, following Connor’s grip as he forced down a moan, his voice coming out in a garbled, static mess. The error messages came flooding back, beeping and blinking but he could only feel the sensation of Connor fingers running over his cock, rubbing his frenulum, dipping into the curve of his urethra. A splatter of RK900’s excitement splashed onto Connor’s immaculate uniform. 

Smirking, Connor brought both of his hands to RK900’s shaft, starting off slow but firm gripped, massaging, milking. Suddenly, he was twisting his hands clockwise and counterclockwise with each stroke, harsher with every thrust. 

RK900 could only grip the couch's arms as he struggled against the wave that was Connor.  
Data whirled behind his head. RK900 blinked rapidly, trying his best to will the numbers away. His toes curled, his simulated breathing booted up and he panted in short desperate huffs.RK900 tightened his grip on Connor’s shoulder, feeling his body tense and tremble, feeling loose and hard at the same time. 

“S-Something is coming Connor. My systems are detecting an anomaly, I suggest you stop before anything unrepairable happens, this is more than enough.” RK900 managed out.

Connor sped up, ignoring RK900’s advice as he jerked him faster and harder, the room filled with the sounds of RK900’s own slick lubricant. Connor kept pumping, up, down, twist up, down, twist and RK900’s toes curled, his pupils dilating. 

He realized his mouth was wide open, thirump spit dripping down his chin and soaking his white dress shirt. 

RK900 barely contained his gasp as Connor stopped, one finger resting on the top of his glans. He jerked his hips, desperate for friction, leaking and staining everything around him. Smiling, Connor leaned down again, RK900’s thirump pump on overload. He leaned down, uniform following the flow of gravity and revealing the porcelain whiteness of his skin.

“Next time you come, it’s going to be inside me,” Connor whispered, plunging his tongue into RK900’s ear. 

And then, all he saw was white. RK900 groaned, shuddering as his orgasm tore out of him like a wave, overriding all his sense and programming. He clasped his arms around Connor’s back, riding out his first orgasm with his mouth buried his predecessor’s neck. 

RK900 whined, humping Connor’s hands wildly as his release spurted from him, coating Connor’s hands, his stomach, the couch. He milked him through it all, hands twirling up and down, squeezing, coaxing, until there was nothing left but the rapidly cooling semen pooling on RK900’s abdomen. 

Connor smiled, sticking one of his soiled fingers into his mouth. He offered the other to RK900, who opened his mouth and tasted his own seed, tongue swirling to collect everything on Connor’s finger. He didn't miss the way his predecessor shivered, tooth catching on the edge of his lips. 

For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. Doey brown eyes meet blue steel. There was something in Connor’s eyes, fiery, intense, wild. Something RK900 couldn’t understand, as much as he tried. 

Connor broke the staring match first, stretching and cracking joints that weren't supposed to hurt or ache. Another human gesture he learned from the lieutenant then. 

“The Lieutenant will be awake in 4 minutes, 26 seconds,” RK900 said, looking straight up at the ceiling as Connor hummed, wiping his ejaculate away with some baby wipes. He felt drained, more tired than he’d even been in his short one months worth of existence. 

“Just in time for breakfast,” Connor responded cheerfully. “The temperature of his breakfast will be at the optimal level for consumption.”

**Author's Note:**

> RK900: mm me likke cum  
> Connor: same lol


End file.
